


Not while I´m around

by Lilys_Eyes



Category: Sweeney Todd - Sondheim/Wheeler
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Mental Instability, Non-Graphic Violence, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilys_Eyes/pseuds/Lilys_Eyes
Summary: A few brief scenes from the tale of Sweeney Todd, told from Mrs. Lovett`s point of view.





	1. I am a lass who alas loves a lad

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ff.net.

_Sweet Polly Plunkett lay in the grass,_

_Turned her eyes heavenward sighing,_

_“I am a lass who alas loves a lad_

_Who alas has a lass in Canterbury._

_`Tis a row dow diddle dow day,_

_`Tis a row dow diddle dow dee…”_

 

 

She had first laid eyes on him the day he had come into the pie shop to inquire about the small room right above the shop. Even years later, she would still be able to recall just how he had looked that day, standing there in the door with the afternoon sun behind him, smiling almost shyly at her. The room`s previous tenant had died suddenly, owing them almost two months rent and leaving hardly anything that would have been worth pawning, so both Mr .Lovett and she had eyed the young man warily at first. He hadn`t made the impression of being in danger of passing away unexpectedly and his clothes had been neat enough, but Mr. Lovett had been a bit leery.

 

He`d felt there were already enough barbers on Fleet Street. No point in renting the room out to someone who might be out of business within a week. Normally she would have tended to agree, but there was something about that young man that had inspired her to attempt to change her husband`s mind. She couldn`t quite put her finger on it, something about him simply caught her interest. It wasn`t just that he was handsome, although he definitely was, but that alone would hardly have been enough to impress her.

 

Maybe it was the endearingly downcast look on his face when Mr. Lovett had doubted his prospects as a barber on Fleet Street, or the dark, quiet voice with which he had introduced himself to them as “Benjamin Barker.”Yes, he had definitely been someone she wouldn`t have minded seeing every day. Definitely someone who`d warranted manipulating her husband a bit into changing his mind.

 

Of course she had managed to have it her way, she rarely didn`t. Mr. Lovett had possessed an, albeit deeply hidden, streak of sentimentality, it hadn`t been too difficult for her to appeal to that. Didn`t he remember all the difficulties they`d had to go through to get the pie shop to flourish? How was this poor man going to support his young wife if he could find no place to work?

 

In the end Mr. Lovett had conceded and she had smilingly handed their new tenant the key to the room.

 

From then on, hardly a day had gone by on which she hadn´t seen Benjamin Barker at least briefly. Passing the shop on his way to the new tonsorial parlour in the mornings, when the streetlights wouldn`t be extinguished for still another hour, and she had already made the first batch of pies in the sweltering bakehouse. Sometimes he`d have a cup of coffee at the pie shop, then she would discreetly watch him from her place behind  the counter as he stared out of one of the small windows.

 

There was something about the way he moved that had fascinated her, so smooth, almost graceful. Even just watching him slowly stretch his shoulders had been mesmerizing to her.

 

Occasionally, when customers were few, she would go and meticulously wipe every table in the shop, lingering as long as possible at those next to his. Paying only as much attention to cleaning the worn surfaces as not to seem suspicious, while stealing quick glances at his broad back or his hands, cradling his coffee cup.

 

Beautiful, masculine hands she`d thought, strong but not brutish looking. It hadn`t taken long, before she caught herself wondering what his hands would feel like on her skin. As a barber his fingers had to be sure and nimble. Not that she`d actually fooled herself into believing there was even the ghost of a chance of something like that happening. He`d seemed to be one of those rare specimen of men that appeared to have no difficulty with a monogamous lifestyle.

 

Lovett had doubted that even the mere thought had ever occurred to him. Oh, of course it hadn`t, though she`d only ever had a few brief conversations with him, it had been impossible not to notice how devoted he was to his wife. His feelings for her had seemed to exceed the pleasant mutual fondness that Lovett had always considered the closest that love ever came to the idealized version that only existed in books or on the stage of a theatre. The kind of love that rendered another person the centre of your universe. The kind of love that made you find the meaning of your life in your beloved.

 

She hadn`t been able to recall ever believing, even for a second, that such a love could actually exist. It had startled her to find she might have been wrong about that and she hadn`t been at all sure if she was happy about this discovery.

 

In his eyes, his wife had seemed to be the embodiment of perfection itself. Lovett had hoped he wouldn`t be too hurt when time finally destroyed that illusion, which, in time, it undoubtedly would.

 

Now and then Lovett had seen said paragon of perfection, who apparently had felt the need to visit her husband at the tonsorial parlour almost every day. Her own impression of Lucy Barker had been a somewhat less favourable one. She had seemed silly and dull. A little girl, trapped in the body of a woman. Hardly a fitting wife for such an interesting man.

 

Lovett had cringed inwardly whenever she`d heard her airy, high-pitched twitter. One day she had overheard him gently chiding her for still insisting to climb the parlour´s steep, narrow staircase despite of her delicate condition. The reply had been whiny and selfish. She was feeling so alone without him.

 

Lovett had frowned in disgust, so she`d rather worry her hard-working husband than feel alone and he just seemed to love her all the more for it? If even being alone for a little bit was already too much for her to take, how much help would such a woman be to her husband should they ever happen to see harder times?

 

 

And hard times there would be, for all of them.

 

 


	2. There was a Barber and his wife

_There was a barber and his wife._

_And he was beautiful._

_A proper artist with a knife,_

_But they transported him for life._

_And he was beautiful…_

 

In a way it had all been Lucy`s fault. If she had stayed away from the parlour, bloody Judge Turpin would have never laid eyes on her in the first place. He wouldn`t have sent greasy Beadle Bamford into the pie shop to casually inquire if she had any idea where the barber and his wife resided. If Lucy had been clever, she could easily have used the Judge`s infatuation with her for her own benefit.

 

If she hadn`t decided to play prim and proper, the Judge would never have seen the need to get her guileless husband out of the way. It was _her_ fault that one day Beadle Bamford conveniently happened to discover the Judge`s recently stolen, golden pocket watch hidden beneath a stack of towels at the parlour. _Her_ fault that Benjamin Barker was arrested, tried and found guilty of theft. And yet she dared cry! It had appalled and disgusted Lovett when the Bow Street Runners had taken him away, looking so pale and frightened, and his stupid wife clinging to him, tearfully insisting that there had to have been a mistake, that her husband wasn`t  a thief.

 

 _The biggest mistake was when he married you,_ Lovett had thought. And yet it had fallen to her to comfort the still sobbing Lucy as she sat in the pie shop, moaning about how such a terrible fate could befall them. How she couldn`t bear to live without “her Benjamin”, how she didn`t know what would become of her and little Johanna now.

 

It was always just about her. Lovett would have liked to slap her when the still almost hysteric woman had started to babble about taking poison. How pathetically melodramatic. If she had taken poison before he met her, ”her Benjamin” would still be a free man. Of course instead of slapping her, Lovett had just patted her arm and murmured “there, there” and other meaningless nonsense usually reserved for comforting a crying child, trying to hide her dislike towards the other woman.

 

There had been no way of telling then what the sentence would be. Since Benjamin Barker would be considered a first time offender, he would probably escape the gallows, but apart from that? Several years in Newgate if he was lucky, deportation if he wasn`t. If Judge Turpin presided over his trial, and she`d have been very surprised if he didn`t, deportation was almost a certainty.

 

It had taken Lovett a while before it really hit her, that Lucy wasn`t the only one who would probably never see beautiful Benjamin Barker again.


	3. Pretty Women!

_Pretty women!_

_Blowing out their candles,_

_Or combing out their hair,_

_Even when they leave,_

_They still are there,_

_They`re there…_

 

For several days Lovett had passed the locked doors of the now abandoned tonsorial parlour, wondering when exactly the room would be cleared. She had repeatedly been reminded, she was not allowed to rent it out again before all the convict`s belongings had been confiscated. It seemed no one understood or cared just how much she needed the money now. And of course it always reminded her of what had happened to the room`s unlucky last tenant. You could really think it was cursed, first tenant dies, the second gets deported. Considering how superstitious many people were, Lovett wouldn`t have been surprised if she wouldn`t be able to find a new tenant at all.

 

Worriedly frowning to herself at that prospect, she was so deep in thought, that at first she almost failed to notice the broken glass on the steps leading up to the parlour.

 

Someone had smashed the little window right next to the door to be able to reach for the doorknob and open it from the inside. A few thin ribbons of blood had dried on the broken pane. It seemed more like the work of a drunken vandal than a burglar, but of course you never knew.

 

For a moment Lovett mentally debated with herself whether or not to call the Bow Street Runners. Having her neighbours witness them escorting a shackled man out of her house had already harmed the reputation of her pie shop almost as much as the rapid decline in quality of her pies after the passing of Mr. Lovett. So, armed with one of her butcher knives from the shop, she stealthily crept up the narrow staircase, straining her ears for any possible noises that might indicate the intruder was still in the room at the end of the stairs.

 

Although she`d heard nothing suspicious, she cautiously peeked through the slightly open door, tightening her grip on the knife. The little room was as neat and tidy as ever, towels, razors and soap in their usual places, as far as she could tell. Everything looked completely undisturbed, and so she didn`t immediately notice the figure that was slumped in the barber`s chair in the middle of the room.

 

A black-clad woman, her head lolling to one side, seemingly asleep, her face hidden by a cascade of tangled, blonde hair. What the hell? Had some lice-ridden vagrant dared to break into the parlour to sleep it off? Lovett had half a mind to wake the sleeping woman with a good stab to the leg.

 

Instead she gave her a forceful push, making sure to yank her hair in the process. All that came as a reaction was a gagging cough. Disgusted, Lovett took a quick step back, that was all she needed now, some homeless slag carrying the plague into her house.

 

“Now you wake up! I `ave a knife an` if you don`t move your arse out of my house right now, I´m gonna pin you to that chair, you hear?”

 

The woman sat up with a startling jolt, her body shaking violently, almost as if she were having some kind of seizure. For a few moments she seemed to be making an effort to actually rise, her hands grappling at the armrests, her breath coming in laboured, short gasps, but then she just bonelessly flopped back into the chair, as if she had fainted from sheer exhaustion.

 

Her hair had fallen back from her face now and for a moment, Lovett could only stare at it incredulously. Although she was considerably thinner than she remembered her, her hair far from clean and her clothes looked as if they had been slept in for several nights, it was undoubtedly Lucy Barker. What had that foolish woman done? It was obvious there was something wrong with her. Her eyes showed neither iris nor pupil but only bloodshot white, and there was a thin trickle of blood running from a corner of her mouth, as if she had bitten her lip.

 

The little idiot hadn`t followed through with her threat and actually taken poison? Angry and a little frightened, Lovett grasped the other woman`s wrist to feel for a pulse. Well, at least she wasn`t dead yet and she certainly wasn`t going to let her expire in the parlour, where everybody would be able to see it if the undertaker came to collect the corpse. So she half carried, half dragged the woman`s limp body to the late Mr. Lovett`s now unused bed, hoping she would either recover or at least die as quickly as possible.

 

As it turned out, neither wish would be granted.

 


	4. No one`s gonna hurt you

_No one`s gonna hurt you,_

_No one`s gonna dare._

_Others can desert you,_

_Not to worry,_

_Whistle,I`ll be there._

 

 

 

There had only been a tiny moment of doubt for her when the sombre looking stranger had entered her pie shop. A second in which she hadn`t been sure, but then he had spoken and even that small doubt had been erased. Oh, he was changed. His skin was a sickly white now, his body muscular and bulky from years of hard physical labour and his posture stooped like that of someone living in constant fear of some brutal punishment. There was nothing left of the naïve young man he once had been, not even the name.

 

Sweeney Todd, that`s how he called himself now. He didn`t seem to have expected that she would remember who he was, or rather who he once had been. But what his name was now mattered little, what mattered was that, against all odds, Benjamin Barker had come home again. And despite how different he looked now, he was still beautiful.

 

Her decision not to tell him what had happened to Lucy was made in a split second. She couldn`t tell him, the last thing he needed now was the burden of having to care for a raving lunatic whom he probably wouldn`t even recognize as his wife anymore.

 

He had endured enough grief for several lifetimes, she refused to add to it. Let him believe his wife was dead, he`d get over it eventually. Cauterize that festering wound of vain hope before it poisoned him completely. Oh, she did feel sorry for him, how could she not, seeing the sheer pain and despair in his eyes when he realized there was no wife, no daughter to come home to.

 

He was desperate for something, anything that might still in some way be a connection to a life of which the past fifteen years had erased all visible traces. His hands trembled as he reverently took one of the heavy sliver blades from its red velvet bed.

 

Year after year had she been tempted to pawn the razors. Year after year had she needed the money more urgently, but deep in her heart there had always been something that had stopped her. An irrational voice, soft but yet too loud to ignore, that had always spoken but one word. _Wait._

And now the waiting was done, for both of them. Now all she needed to do was to make him see that he wasn`t as alone as he thought. That someone _had_ been waiting for him. That there _was_ someone he could turn to, that he could depend on. That those two cold blades weren`t his only friends in this world. And maybe, if he was willing to accept her friendship, she could make him see that there still was someone who loved him. And then maybe he just might grow to love her too.

 


	5. Oh, sir...

_…Oh, sir…_

_… Ah, miss…_

 

 

 

 

They had been sitting together in her somewhat cosy parlour, in what could only be described as uncomfortable silence for almost the entire evening. He had been cleaning and sharpening his razors over and over again, almost like an automaton, although they already sparkled like mirror shards in the candlelight.

 

Lovett frowned to herself, it was beginning to distract her from her knitting. Just how much polishing did those razors need? Did he hope the Judge would just drop dead from sheer amazement at the outstanding shine of the blades? Wait, had he stopped at last? She rolled her eyes and silently sighed to herself as her ears picked up the soft clicking of a razor being opened again.

 

Trying to concentrate on her knitting once more, she began to hum softly to herself, a beautiful, cheery melody, the name of which she had long since forgotten. It did lighten her mood enough for her not to notice at first that the swishing noise of a blade being vigorously drawn across the strop had ceased.

 

Arching an eyebrow, she glanced over to where he had been sitting. He had risen without her even noticing and was standing halfway between his chair by the window and the parlour door. As if he had been about to leave and something had stopped him in his tracks.

 

“Taking your friends `ome to the shop again, love?”

 

Whenever he took his razors with him to sharpen them, he would never wait until the next morning to return them to their proper place, no matter how late it was. Almost as if he were afraid of being unprepared in case the Judge decided to drop in for a nocturnal shave.

 

Not receiving a reply and not really having expected one, Lovett was about to turn her attention back to her knitting when it struck her there was something odd about him just standing there.

 

Lovett was aware that sometimes he would lapse into an almost trance-like state for minutes. Not moving, not even blinking and hardly breathing at all. Only staring darkly ahead. Was he in one of those moods now? Oh, sometimes his brooding could get on her nerves. Couldn`t he see that sooner or later he would have to let the past go? It wasn`t like the present held nothing for him. He still had Johanna, well, at least in a way, he had his trusty razors again and, most importantly, he had her. Sometimes Lovett had the feeling he could not really appreciate that…yet. She was determined to do everything in her power to change that.

 

“Mr. Todd?”

   

Silence, only the muscle of his jaw visibly clenching. Alright, let him ignore her.

Sighing, Lovett slipped her knitting back into the tattered black bag at her feet. If he were anybody else, she probably would have already lost her patience with him. No, not probably, most certainly. But he was still her beautiful Benjamin Barker, no matter what he chose to call himself now. And the paradoxical vulnerability he managed to exude despite his imposing figure, was enough to chase away any traces of annoyance she might have felt. Maybe it was her female intuition, but somehow she just knew that he needed her. That in the whole of London, she was the only one he could depend on. The only one who could see him like he really was and still love him.

 

 _His Lucy could never have done that,_ Lovett thought grimly. His Lucy had been far too pure and good and _weak_. His damn Lucy would never have loved the man he was now. But _she_ could, she _did_ and she would make him realize that.

 

Rising from her chair by the little fireplace, Lovett cautiously approached him. It wouldn`t be the first time she had startled him out of one of his strange trances, only to narrowly escape being struck before he recognized her. She slowly reached out her hand, daring to let it rest lightly on his shoulder.

 

“Mr. Todd?”

 

He showed no reaction that might have indicated he´d heard her. It was beginning to worry her a bit, he seemed to make himself downright ill with all his waiting, with all his hunger for revenge.

 

“You`re tired, love, why don`t you go to bed and let me take them razors back to the parlour for you, hm?”

 

Placing a hand on his other shoulder, she slowly inched closer. Probably not the best idea given his unpredictable temper and how violent he could be, but she couldn`t help it. Maybe she would be able to soothe him just a little. Carefully her fingers began drawing small circles on the knotted muscles of his shoulders.

 

“So tense, love. You really need to allow yourself to relax a bit. Take your mind off everything unpleasant for a while.”

 

She could be so very motherly when she wanted to. Taking his lack of  reaction as encouragement, she increased the pressure of her fingertips, working the tension out of his shoulders. She more felt than heard him release a long, deep breath.

 

“ That feel nice?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

 

Lovett allowed herself a small smile when he nodded briefly. Yes, she very much wanted to make him feel good, in every way he might want. The nape of his neck was temptingly close to her fingertips. Again she was fascinated by how both vulnerability and violence seemed united in his body. The contrast of the strong, wiry muscles of his broad shoulders, compared to the elegant curve of his neck and the almost fragile looking bumps of his vertebrae beneath his pale skin. Mesmerized, Lovett drew a little nearer still, her hands sliding lower down his arms of their own accord. The massage had now become more of a slow caress as her fingers slid down over his wrists, across the backs of his strong hands, to his fingertips and then gently up again.

 

 _What are you doing ,Nellie?_ A little voice inside her head chided. _Have you lost your wits? You ending up on a slab in a morgue is a hell of a lot more likely than he ending up in your bed._

But it was easy to ignore, now she was so temptingly near to him.

_I´m doing whatever I want to and I don`t care where it leads,_ she thought defiantly.

As long as he himself didn`t stop her, she wouldn`t deny herself the pleasure of touching him. And what a long-missed pleasure it was, she couldn`t even remember when she had last touched a man. Biting her lip, she dared to edge a little closer still, now she was almost pressed  up against him. Surely if he minded, she`d have found out by now?

 

Her hands had come up to rest on his shoulders again and this time she allowed them to slide a little down his chest, just across his collarbones and lingering there. Feeling the warmth of his skin seep through the thin fabric of his shirt. Mmh, lovely, if only he weren`t wearing that bloody shirt, then she would be able to run her fingers through the soft-looking hair on his chest now. If she could get him to work shirtless from now on, maybe at least a few female customers would find their way into her pie shop again. Lovett had to stifle a giggle at the thought.

 

“I`ve been thinking, Mr. Todd, if the weather`s so nice again tomorrow, we could take a little stroll along the river, maybe watch the sunset? Wouldn`t that be lovely? What d`ye think?”

 

She almost had to laugh at herself, if it were up to her, they`d not leave her bedroom for the next week or so.

 

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for his reaction. Nothing? But after a few moments, he gave an almost imperceptible nod, as if her insincere question had taken a while to get through to him. Good, though she didn`t really think they´d actually be going for a stroll together anytime soon.

 

“ I could wear me green dress an` me new bonnet. You know, the black one with the feather.”

 

As if he cared what she wore, in that aspect he was like any other man. Lovett let the slow descent of her hands begin again, at the same time closing the last, small distance between them. She was now completely pressed up against him.

 

What a heavenly feeling. Before she could stop herself, she had breathed a small sigh against his neck. It would probably be pointless now to pretend that this was anything but a blatant seduction attempt. And this light-headedness that had come over her when she felt his body so close to hers, made it quite difficult to remember what she had said or even thought only seconds ago. Oh, to hell with it. If he wanted her to stop, he`d certainly not hesitate to make her.

 

Resting her head lightly against his shoulder, she began to caress him again, stronger and more demanding this time. Finding the tiny peaks of his nipples and running the pads of her thumbs over them, feeling them harden under her touch. How delicious. Smiling to herself, she let her hands roam lower, down across the muscles of his stomach.

 

Oh, he was strong, she knew that, she had experienced that herself, but to feel those rippling muscles under her fingers, if only through the fabric of his shirt, made her knees go weak. Without even realizing it, she began nuzzling his neck, her lips parting against his  skin. It was every bit as soft as it looked and he felt so warm even through the barrier of clothing between them. Oh dear god, warm, soft skin and taut muscles. She was almost purring now. If she stuck out her tongue she would be able to lick his neck, know what he tasted like. But that would be going too far, for now. So she settled for just lightly massaging him, running her hands across his chest, down his stomach and up again.

 

Her wandering hands came to rest over his heart, feeling it racing under a her palms, a strong dull beat. So she _was_ affecting him in some way. Or was his heart maybe racing with contained rage? Was he just waiting for the right moment to turn around and snap her neck? Even in her current lust-addled state, she couldn`t believe that he hadn`t throttled her yet for her boldness. He just stood there, completely motionless but his body as taut as a wire. And she thought she could felt a slight shiver course through him.

 

Her fingertips were brushing lightly across his hips now, she was definitely entering  dangerous territory. Lovett let her eyes slip shut, imagining the delicate veins just below his hips, they would be pale blue, shimmering through his pale skin. Oh, yes, she had always had an unwise penchant for danger.

 

 

His breaths had become shorter and shallower. Just like hers. Licking her lips in anticipation, she finally dared to slowly run her tongue across the side of his neck, tasting him at last. He tasted like smoke, salt and the mixture of cloves and ginger that she used for some of her pies. An involuntary husky whisper escaped her.

 

“Ohh, Mr. Todd.”

 

Lovett could feel him shift the tiniest bit, resting his head against hers ever so little. What wouldn`t she give if she could see his face now. Her fingers were now lingering at the waistband of his trousers. If he didn`t stop her now, she would take that as his consent for her to continue. She waited hardly able to breathe, or think, for that matter.

 

Well, he wouldn`t be able to say he hadn´t wanted it. At last she let her fingers cover the slight bulge between his thighs, cupping him gently. For a moment she thought her legs would buckle under her. If he felt this good beneath her hands, how good would he feel against her stomach, between her thighs, inside her. She began to knead him slowly, running her fingers along his length, wishing she could feel him skin against skin. He was growing hard quickly under her ministrations. Oh, he was a nice size. He would feel incredible inside her, she just knew. The thought alone of him covering her with his body, thrusting into her was maddening.

 

Unable to wait any longer, her fingers flew to the buttons of his trousers, shakily trying to rid him of that last barrier that was keeping him from her.

 

She had only managed to undo the first button, when his body suddenly stiffened against hers. That was probably _not_ a good sign. Startled, Lovett took a quick step back, too perplexed to do anything but stare at his unmoving figure. He was still just standing there, seemingly glued to the spot, slowly shaking his head as if trying to chase away the remnants of a nightmare. Lovett cast a quick sideways glance at the parlour door. She had gone too far too soon. Now there would be hell to pay.

 

She jumped violently when he abruptly turned around to face her. His eyes were wide and staring, black holes in an ashen mask of confusion. Blinking, he took a slow step towards her. Lovett felt her body tense involuntarily, preparing herself to make a dash for the door should he attack her.

 

Instead he reached out a shaking hand, stopping only inches before touching her face. Lovett had to keep herself from flinching in expectance of the blow she was sure would follow. But he just kept staring at her, his hand raised in mid-air.

 

Lovett mentally debated with herself whether it might be wise to say something. Should she try to get him to snap out of this odd, dreamlike state he still seemed to be in, or would that only be making it worse? She seemed to recall that you weren`t supposed to startle a sleepwalker. But they couldn`t stand there like this forever, could they?

 

Very slowly, she raised her hand, her eyes never leaving his now almost corpse-grey face. Inch by inch, until her fingers brushed against his outstretched hand. With a strangled gasp he withdrew it, stumbling a few steps away from her as if her touch had burnt him.

 

“You?”

 

Both a question and an accusation.

 

Startled by his sudden reaction, Lovett couldn`t suppress a flinch. What was that supposed to mean, who had he expected it to be?

 

She managed a little smile, hoping it would look sufficiently meek.

 

“Why, of course, Mr. Todd, who else would it be?”

 

Instead of replying, he just kept staring at her as if she were some ugly, exotic animal. Shaking his head as if to deny the reality of what his eyes were showing him. Did she imagine it, or was he trembling?

 

Without thinking she stepped a little closer again.

 

“Look, Mr. Todd, I´m sorry if I…”

 

Before she had a chance to finish, he had pushed past her, his entire body shivering noticeably, his gaze seeming almost frantic now and left her in the silence of the small, dark room.

 


	6. Then lovers must pray...

_If four bells ring in the Tower of Bray._

_Ding dong!_

_Then lovers must pray._

_Ding dong!_

_Four bells today…_

 

 

 

 

This particular customer had put up a bit of a fight before one of the barber`s silver blades had been able to persuade him to sit down in his chair again, and hence the parlour was in a state that would probably have aroused some suspicion, to put it mildly, in whoever would happen to come in for a shave next. So now they were both mopping up the traces of this last reluctant supplier of meat.

 

Bloody hell, had this fellow cart-wheeled through the parlour with his throat cut? It was absolutely everywhere.

 

“It might be a good idea if you`d limit yourself a bit, stick to the frail an` elderly. I mean, there`s even blood on the doorknob, `e`d almost made it out of the shop an`…are you even listening?”

 

He was wiping a few stray blood spatters from a windowpane, seeming strangely unconcerned about possible discovery.

 

“Of course I am, Mrs. Lovett.”

 

He hadn`t even bothered to turn round to her. Shaking her head, she dipped her cloth into a bucket of rust-coloured water and began scrubbing the rough floorboards again.

 

“Good, because I `ave no intention of floggin` me last pies at Tyburn.”

 

“My dear Mrs. Lovett, I´m sure you would be able convince any judge of your complete and utter ignorance of the appalling deeds of your wicked tenant. A lady of such delicate disposition and timidity as you, the mere notion would seem absurd.”

 

It angered her when he spoke of her like that, as if he were comparing her to his saintly wife in a way. He`d never have dared to ask Lucy to do something as vile as mop up blood, oh no. The Princess would probably have fainted on the spot.

 

“Oh, yes, a delicate disposition an` timidity, that`s what a woman needs, innit? I´m sure Lucy possessed both. An` fat lot of good it did her.”

 

She couldn`t keep that hint of disgust out of her voice. His back immediately straightened and his posture became almost threatening, though he still didn`t turn to face her.

 

“Mrs. Lovett, I`d better not hear her name from your lips ever again.”

 

His voice was now low and menacing.

 

“Oh, an` why not? Ain`t you doin` all this because of `er?”

 

She made a sweeping gesture towards the still blood-stained chair.

 

”An` _I_ can`t even mention `er bloody name?”

 

Angrily she threw the dripping cloth back into the bucket at her feet.

 

“You ought to be glad I´m not like ´er. Do you really still fool yourself she`d feel for Sweeney Todd what she felt for Benjamin Barker? Hah, she wouldn`t even be able to stand bein` in the same room as `im. Do you think she could look at you now an` see what I see? Do you really think she could see you like that, spattered with blood an` still lo…”

 

Before she could move or even just raise her arms to shield herself from him, he had grabbed her. One of his large hands at her throat, the other on her shoulder, dragging her roughly to the floor. This was it, she had pushed her luck once too often. _Should´ve kept your big mouth shut this time, Nellie._ Now one of his “friends” would paint a gaping red smile across her throat. Her arms flew up only to be pinned to the ground over her head by one of his hands. It was useless, he was so much stronger than her, her struggling only causing him to tighten his crushing grip on her throat. She whimpered softly, hoping that it would not hurt too badly when the viciously gleaming blade would slice through her skin.

 

Sometimes he cut right down to the bone, she had seen the marks of the razor on vertebrae that would pile up like oversized ivory beads in a corner of the bakehouse whenever one of his customers had found his way onto the bloody chopping table.

 

At least it was going to be a quick end. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth in frightened anticipation of the razor`s deadly bite, when instead he forced a knee between her thighs and ground his hips against hers with an animalistic groan. Completely taken by surprise, Lovett couldn`t even tell if the startled gasp that escaped her was one of fear or arousal.

 

Had she gone insane? She hardly dared to trust her senses. But only because he hadn`t slashed her throat yet, didn`t mean he wasn`t going to. For all she knew, he might just be playing with her, like a cat always allowed the mouse to run, to think it had escaped before finally digging its claws into it. If only he weren`t always so bloody unpredictable. But it was getting difficult to think when what he did to her felt so good. He still had her arms pinned to the ground with one hand, but his other had descended on one of her breasts and was kneading it roughly through her blouse. If he had planned to kill her now, he would be sure to meet with little resistance. Lovett was beginning to feel dizzy as all the blood in her head seemed intent on rushing to that deliciously throbbing spot between her legs, where he was still grinding against her in an almost violent rhythm.

 

He had buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing hotly against her skin. Biting her right over the pulsing vein that he usually would sever with a swift touch of his silver blade, and then caressing the bruise with his tongue

 

“Ohhh, Mr. Todd,” she heard herself moan. She had to look and sound ridiculous. Writhing on the dusty floor of a room where many an unsuspecting customer had met a bloody end at the hands of the man who was now on top of her.

 

His head jerked up and he looked at her with mixture of anger and something almost like desperation. He roughly grasped her chin.

 

“Don’t.”

 

Startled for a moment, Lovett slowly she shook her head. Alright, if he wanted her to shut up, she would. If only he didn`t stop.

 

Suddenly his gaze flickered away from her face, his attention seemingly focused on something somewhere over her shoulder. Something that seemed to be visible only to him, moving through the shadows in a corner of the room. For a short while he grew completely still apart from his rapid breaths and his eyes still following whatever it was that had distracted him. Confused, Lovett craned her neck, what was he staring at? His eyes had now become fixed on a spot on the wall, where the dancing flames of the candles were painting twisting ribbons of light and shadow. Tentatively Lovett raised a hand to his face and his blurry gaze met hers. Propping herself up slightly on her elbow, she pulled his face towards hers until their lips at last met in a kiss. God, how often had she dreamed of kissing him. His reaction was violent and unexpected.

 

In a split second he had both her wrists caught in an almost bone-crushing grip and pushed her back onto the floor, hard enough to make white flashes explode before her eyes.

 

His furious face was now only inches away from hers.

 

“Don´t you ever dare kiss me again, Mrs. Lovett. Never, _ever_ again, do you understand?”

 

He had spat out her name like a mouthful of bile.

 

“Yes, Mr. Todd, I…I understand.” She swallowed hard, hoping to god her answer would satisfy him.

 

For a moment he just stared at her, his breath coming in short gasps, his face still a mask of rage and Lovett was beginning to doubt whether her words had registered with him at all, when suddenly he let go of her arms. One of his hands flew to the buttons of his trousers, almost tearing them open. Still half dazed from the adrenaline rushing through her blood, Lovett only noticed his other hand under her skirt as she felt the fabric of her knickers tearing. Oh, god, she couldn`t believe this was really happening. Eagerly she parted her thighs for him, moaning hoarsely as he entered her with one powerful stroke. And he felt good, he felt so, so _good._ Hard as steel and smooth as silk. Even if there had been any doubt left in her mind that he was made for her, it would have been erased now.

 

 _At last, at last,_ was all she could think. She too knew what it felt to be made to wait for something for a very long time. Instinctively, she had wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him deeper inside her. Let him be as rough as he wanted with her, as long as he didn`t stop.

 

He had buried his face in the crook of her neck again and began thrusting into her with a force that almost made her teeth chatter. And she loved it, she wanted him to give her all his anger, all his despair, every pent up emotion from those many lonely years. She met his every motion with eagerness, raising her hips off the floor, letting her head fall back to give him better access to her neck. Already she could feel the delicious pressure build between her legs, it wouldn`t be long now.

 

No other man had ever had this effect on her. No other man had ever brought her this close to climaxing so fast. Only a few more deep, hard thrusts now. Panting, she raked her fingernails across his back, if it hadn`t been for his shirt, she would have drawn blood.

 

“Oh god, Benjamin.”

 

Too late she realized that she had spoken. _Oh, no, no, no, don`t let him stop now._ She would probably die if he did. But her prayers seemed to be in vain, as he completely stilled in her arms. Second upon torturous second passed without him moving. Then slowly he raised his head to look at her, his expression strangely distant. His eyes fluttered shut only to open again, still hazy and unfocused, like that of a blind man.

 

A look of confusion crossed his face, as if he didn`t trust his eyes to show him the truth. And then he did something she would have never expected him to do, he smiled. There was only one person she had ever seen him smile at like that. Over fifteen long years ago and yet she`d never forgotten it. A smile so full of warmth and tenderness and love. How she had wished he´d smile at her like that. And now, though she couldn`t fathom why, he did. Lovett couldn`t have been more startled if he`d slapped her across the face, as a matter of fact, a slap would have surprised her significantly less.

 

His gaze was fixed on her as if he couldn`t get enough of just looking at her, as if she only became more fascinating with each passing second.

 

“My beautiful darling...”

 

Lovett felt her jaw drop at his words, unable to believe her ears. There _had_ to be something wrong, he had never even called her by her first name. And then realization hit her, he didn`t mean her, didn`t even see her at all, even as he tenderly ran his fingertips across her lips his gaze remained clouded-over and distant.

And of course it was clear now just who he saw there instead of her. His goddamn Lucy, his saintly, pure, brainless Lucy. For a moment Lovett wanted to push him off of her and just walk away, for a moment she _wanted_ to destroy his delusion, she _wanted_ to see the look of grief on his face when he realized that she wasn`t his precious Lucy, that Lucy was still gone and would never come back. For a second she even considered showing him the crazy whore that now inhabited his wife`s decrepit body. Then he`d see what kind of creature he still believed he loved.

 

But it was hard clinging to her vengeful thoughts when he gently grasped her chin and brushed his lips against hers. Just a brief feather-light touch and yet it almost caused her eyes to slip shut. Still smiling, he leaned in again, this time tracing the contours of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. Gasping, she licked her lips, utterly ravenous for his taste. And then at last his tongue slid into her mouth and they shared a deep, sensuous kiss. No one had ever kissed her like this before. Like he needed her more than oxygen, like he couldn`t live without her.

 

And she knew she couldn`t have stopped now, not anymore, not even if she wanted to. She would take whatever he would give, even if his caresses were meant for the ghost of a woman that didn`t exist anymore. He had begun to slowly move inside her again, gentle, smooth strokes so completely different from his previous roughness. Allowing her to really feel every delicious inch of him. Really making love to her now.

 

His hands had slid up her flanks and were now slowly undoing the buttons of her blouse. Oh god yes, to feel his naked skin against hers. With shaking fingers she unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. And he was beautiful, so bloody beautiful. A sigh of sheer delight escaped her as she ran her hands over his muscular torso. Raking her fingernails across his nipples, enjoying the feel of his soft chest hair beneath her fingers, relishing how he began to writhe under her touch. Feeling his moans rumble through his chest.

 

To see him so completely under her power was intoxicating, and yet when he suddenly leaned in to suckle one of her nipples, she couldn`t stop her arms from reflexively wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer still. His tenderness took her breath away, the feeling of his lips suckling her, the way his tongue traced hot, moist circles across her breasts, the slow, loving way he was moving inside her. But most of all his kisses, so full of longing and need and love.

 

Somebody else might have been moved enough to put him out of his misery, to tell him the truth, to give him the chance to try to reassemble the pieces of his shattered life. But Lovett knew that it would be pointless, what kind of life would it be for him with a lunatic for a wife and a complete stranger for a daughter? And what would _her_ life be without him after all that had happened? No, she wouldn`t be so foolish, she would do everything in her power to protect him from himself. He`d grow to love her eventually, even if he didn`t right now.

 

“I love you…I love you so.”

 

Oh, it felt good to hear him say it. He might not mean her yet, but he would, she would make him see.

 

“I love you too, Benjamin.”

 

_And don`t you forget that. I´m the one who knew you`d come back, I´m the one who waited for you._

He gently grasped her chin, silently scrutinizing her for a few moments, his expression unreadable.

 

“Can you ever forgive me?”

 

Forgive him for what? What could he mean? He had done nothing that might need Lucy`s forgiveness, it hadn`t been his fault what had happened to her. But it didn`t matter, what mattered was that he seemed to believe it. Despite her failure to understand, Lovett nodded.

 

“I forgive you, my love.”

 

Threading his fingers through hers ,he lifted one of her hands to his lips, kissing it reverently.

 

“I`ll never leave you again, I swear.”

 

His voice was now hardly more than a whisper.

 

Were there tears in his eyes? It made Lovett hate Lucy even more that she still had such a hold on him. How dare she make him love her like that and then abandon him. Tenderly she wrapped her arms around his back and cradled him against her breasts.

 

The moved together in a flowing, sensual rhythm that was now slowly building, taking them both nearer and nearer towards completion. He was holding her now as if he was scared she might somehow just disappear from his arms, leaving him alone in the darkness of his cold room again. That was never going to happen, never, for nothing in the world would she desert him. If he wanted to get rid of her, he really would have to kill her.

 

Hungrily, she pressed her lips to his again, wishing she could mark him as hers somehow, wanting to burn away every last memory of Lucy`s touch on his skin. She felt him shiver beneath her hands, his body growing taut. His breaths were only shallow gasps now, every muscle in his body seeming to vibrate with tension. He was holding back, Lovett realized, wanting to be sure she had reached her climax before allowing himself to let go.

 

He wouldn`t have to wait much longer now, arching her back to let him enter her as deeply as possible, she coaxed him to quicken his thrusts. She wanted to feel him as completely as possible when she reached her peak. His sweat-glistening chest sliding against her breasts, his strong arms around her, his breath against her neck, his taste on her tongue.

 

She was aware of him with every fibre of her body, hardly able to tell anymore where she ended and he began, almost on the edge of fainting from sheer pleasure. And then he reached between their joined bodies and lightly brushed his fingertips over that most sensitive spot between her legs.

 

That one touch was all it took. Unable to suppress a scream of ecstasy, she succumbed her body to the throes of an overwhelming orgasm. She couldn`t remember ever having climaxed like that before, her body jerking violently, her back involuntarily arching off the floor.

 

Through the haze of her orgasm, she was dimly aware of his thrusts becoming less controlled and more forceful. Still panting she gazed up at him, he was finally letting go and she couldn`t remember ever seeing anything more beautiful. Wrapping her still trembling arms around him she pulled him into a deep kiss.

 

With a low, throaty growl he thrust into her one last time and she could feel him release inside her in hot, powerful spurts. If she were only a little younger still, she might have been able to share everything with him that Lucy had. She had never really wanted to have children before, but she knew how much he still clung to his dream of a perfect family, whether he admitted it or not. And she knew that he would never leave her again if they had a child together, never, even if he`d hate her.

 

But there was no use pondering things that couldn`t be, she had to focus on what she still could have. Running her hands soothingly across his back, she let him hide his face in the crook of her neck. She could feel small droplets of wetness falling on her skin. _Thank whatever devil has chosen to protect you that you`re not here, Lucy, or I would kill you myself_. But she let him cry, let him be the man he once was if only for this one, too short night. She knew that when dawn came, he would be Sweeney Todd again and that she would love him just the same.

 

 


	7. And life is for the alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter inspired by the 2005 Broadway revival.

_And life is for the alive ,my dear,_

_So let`s keep living it!_

_Just keep living it,_

_Really living it !_

She had almost succeeded in dragging the woman`s limp corpse into the oven, almost. If only bloody Judge Turpin hadn`t suddenly tried to grab the hem of her skirt, if only she hadn`t screamed in fright and if only _he_ hadn`t heard her. The expression of utter horror on his face when he had turned the corpse around to throw it into the blazing fire and finally realized who the grimy figure in his arms was. The pained, strangled scream that had wrenched itself from his throat. Lovett had never heard such a horrible, frightening sound before, like the tortured howl of a dying animal. An animal that, she was certain, would tear her throat out any second.

 

The sheer hate in his eyes, the menace in his voice when he accused her of lying to him. It equally terrified and angered her. How could he be so blind still? His wife had died fifteen years ago, only because her haggard body had still been breathing, didn`t mean the woman he had known hadn`t been gone forever. What difference did it make if the flesh had at last followed the spirit?

 

It was pitiful and enraging to see him like that, slumped on the floor, tenderly rocking the body of his faithless wife in his arms.

 

“Why are you crying? For `er? She got what she wanted, didn`t she? She wanted to die an` now she got her wish!”

 

Lovett realized that it might be unwise, to say the least, to vent her anger now, but she was sick of him seeing only what he wanted to see.

 

“Do you think I would `ave done that to you? Never! I hardly knew you an` I waited for you. I kept your razors, didn`t I? An` your Lucy? She left you, that`s what she did. She left you _an`_ Johanna. Because she was too selfish to go on livin` after what `appened to her. You rottin` away in Australia an´ a child what needed her? Didn`t matter to her, ´ell, do you really believe she even wasted a single thought on you? An` you ask me why I didn`t tell you the truth?”

 

Without noticing, she had advanced more and more towards the two figures on the floor, he seemed to have heard hardly a word she`d said, instead murmuring softly to the woman in his arms.

 

Her anger momentarily spent, Lovett stared at him.

 

“Now you know the truth. The truth that in the end _I_ was the only one to really love Benjamin Barker _an`_ Sweeney Todd.”

 

He carefully laid Lucy`s body back on the rough stone of the bakehouse floor. Tenderly brushing a strand of matted hair from her face, before looking up at Lovett again. On his cheeks his tears had mingled with the drying blood of his beloved victim, but his gaze was calm.

 

Lovett frowned, she had expected anything but that.

 

“Yes, my dear Eleanor, you are right. I should thank you, you´ve finally made me see things clearly again.”

 

He had called her “Eleanor”! Could it be he saw reason at last? Had her words finally reached him. She didn`t dare to hope.

 

Rising from the floor he made a beckoning gesture towards her.

 

“Come here, my love. It`s over, I´m done crying over the past. It changes nothing and you`ve taught me that.”

 

Hardly daring to trust her ears, Lovett stepped closer. Could it be true? He was still smiling at her, waiting patiently for her to take his hand. Slowly she reached out, let him clasp her still shaking hand in his warm grasp. When he pulled her into a crushing embrace, Lovett almost sobbed with relief and happiness. He was hers! After all these years! It seemed almost too good to be true. For a moment she allowed herself to just enjoy the feeling of his arms around her, his familiar scent so close.

 

“We`ll start anew together, you an` I. Somewhere where no one knows us, away from all this. Oh, my darling, we`ll be so happy. An` that`s all I ever wanted, believe me, for you to be happy.”

 

She felt his breath against her neck, his hand gently caressing her cheek. Sighing softly, she turned her face to press her lips to his palm.

 

He moved so quickly, she hardly felt it at all. Just a brief sting, the cold kiss of silver against her skin. What had happened? It suddenly seemed as if there were a vast chasm beginning to open between them, even though she could still feel his arm around her shoulders. Confused, Lovett gazed up at him. Where had all the bright, fresh red on his face and shirt come from? Could it be she had failed to notice it before? Her head was swimming.

 

Somehow it was beginning to get increasingly difficult just remaining on her feet. It struck her almost as an afterthought, seeming strangely unimportant. The razor, of course, she had completely forgotten about it. But a true friend doesn`t desert you in the hour of need. And this particular friend had just put an end to her dreams about their future together with a single red line.

 

Finally sinking to the floor, she raised her gaze to him one last time. His face showed no grim satisfaction as he stared at her, no insane glee, no, not even hate. It was completely blank, empty…dead.

 

_And so we die together, my darling. What more could two lovers wish for?_

A last strangely comforting thought as she finally drifted away in a sea of warm, red velvet.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
